Poison
by Black Friar
Summary: Jason discovers that no matter how hard you try, the past doesn't always stay buried. Volatile Verse.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning:** This story deals with a very disturbing topic. Nothing graphic actually takes place within the story, it just alludes to events, but I would still like readers to be aware that certain aspects of this story can be trigger-y (is that even a word?). As per usual, be prepared for Jason's potty mouth.

This was written for Velkyn Karma as a prize for winning the YJ fanfiction contest. She wanted something from the Volatile verse where someone from Jason's past makes an appearance, and he tries to keep why he's reacting to that person from Dick and Bruce. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but Jaybird is always kinda hard to reel in, so it ended up being a three-shot.

oOo

"We are able to find everything in our memory, which is like a dispensary or chemical laboratory in which chance steers our hand sometimes to a soothing drug and sometimes to a dangerous poison." Marcel Proust.

oOo

Jason hurried up the steps of the Gotham Museum, resisting the urge to tug at the noose around his neck – Alfred had spent several minutes making sure his Windsor knot was just perfect and Jason doubted he'd appreciate any crinkles in the silk before Jason had even arrived at the charity auction. It didn't matter that the butler wasn't here; somehow, he always knew if they neglected to maintain certain standards at public functions.

Jason wished he knew what Alfred's secret to being all-knowing was; it might help them stay one step ahead of him sometimes.

Arriving at the main door of the museum, Jason recognized one of the security guards checking invites as Adam Stanton, a Wayne Enterprises guard. _Looks like Bruce finally convinced the museum to let him add extra security for tonight._

He couldn't understand why they hadn't agreed to it sooner – Bruce was paying for it out of his own pocket, so it wasn't like it was costing them anything. And even a moron should know that extra security was always better where priceless artefacts were concerned. Jason supposed it was because the museum board hadn't wanted to host the auction in the first place. Hard to blame them considering the initial auction had been crashed by armed gunmen four weeks ago.

Jason scowled. The gunmen were the reason Bruce had chosen the museum instead of a hotel: security was tighter, it was harder to get in and out of, and only ticket holders would have access to the event. In a hotel, any number of people could potentially gain access to the auction. The only problem had been convincing a less-than-willing museum board to host the auction. Jason was willing to bet that the only reason they had agreed to it was because it was Bruce Wayne asking.

"Evening, Jason," said Adam, once he had finished with the couple in front of Jason. "Didn't think this was your kind of party."

"It's not," Jason replied, handing over his ticket. "I'm on the clock."

"Babysitting duty?"

"Don't say that in front of Dick or you might find your locker filled with shaving foam," Jason warned, holding out his arms for the other guard to scan him.

Adam grinned. "Noted."

"What's the turnout like?" Jason asked, as the other guard continued checking him for weapons.

"Big. The shooting a few weeks ago doesn't seem to have scared them."

Jason grimaced. A bigger turnout was great for the charity…not so much for him. More people meant more hobnobbing, meaning it would take longer to get out of here.

"Enjoy," Adam told him with a knowing look when the other guard finished scanning Jason.

Jason snorted and entered the museum. A root canal would be more enjoyable than this – he hated fancy parties.

The lobby was packed with people milling between the front reception rooms in order to examine the items for sale before the auction began. Jason gave an instinctual, cursory scan of the crowd before heading for the auction pre-party in the back where Bruce was likely to be. After the shooting four weeks ago, he had wanted Jason to stay with Dick – just in case. It left a bad taste in Jason's mouth that Dick was vulnerable as a civilian because he couldn't use his Robin skills. Bruce had put out a rumour that Dick was taking self-defence after the boy's kidnapping three weeks ago, but it was still too soon for him to use his skills in public. Jason knew Dick was looking forward to not having to pretend to be a helpless kid anymore, and he himself would feel a _lot_ happier knowing Dick could break a few noses to defend himself as a civilian.

Entering the back room, Jason immediately spotted Bruce and Dick. Several socialites were clustered around them, flirting with Bruce. The billionaire was smiling charmingly but the tightness around his eyes told Jason how much they were irritating him. Dick just looked bored out of his tree. Grinning, Jason headed in their direction. He hadn't seen them in almost a week as he had been back in his own world for a visit.

Dick spotted him before he reached them and his whole face lit up. "Jay!" he cried, and darted the remaining few feet towards him. "Welcome back!"

Jason threw an arm over his shoulder. "Hey, kid, having fun?"

"Time of my life," replied Dick, rolling his eyes, and Jason chuckled.

"You're late," came an annoyed voice. Jason looked up to see that Bruce had untangled himself from his gaggle of admirers – who were now pouting at his back – to join them. "We expected you last night."

"Yeah, sorry. We had a small emergency and I got held up."

Bruce frowned. "Everything okay?"

"I'll tell you about it later," said Jason, knowing they would assume it was vigilante associated and drop it. And while it was vigilante associated, that wasn't the reason for his evasion. The truth was Joker had escaped from Arkham for the first time since he'd tortured Robin and Jason didn't know how to tell Dick. He wasn't sure how the boy would take the news; free, even in another world, was still free, and Dick was only starting to put what happened with Joker behind him.

Jason scowled. If it weren't for the fact he was needed here, he would have stayed in the other Gotham until Joker was caught.

"Jay? You okay?" Dick's voice broke into his musings.

Jason looked down at the boy and patted his shoulder. "Just fine, kiddo. Bruce," he turned to the billionaire, "is the auction still taking place in the front rooms?"

The older man nodded. "Yes. The room on the right will be first, then a fifteen-minute break before the lot for the second room goes up."

"And it's going to take ages," Dick added grumpily. "There's tons of stuff so we won't be getting out of here any time soon."

Jason grimaced. Peachy.

"Bruce? Bruce Wayne! You old dog, how long's it been?" a loud voice called, and someone shouldered past Jason towards Bruce.

Jason resisted the urge to snap at the man. It wouldn't do to insult a Wayne Foundation guest.

"Roger," Bruce greeted the man, holding out his hand, "how've you been?"

"Never better," he replied, shaking Bruce's hand vigorously. "What about you? Still banging on with the whole charity thing I see."

"It's important to help people, Roger."

The man waved a hand. "So just write a cheque. You can afford it and it would be a lot less hassle than all this."

Jason scowled at the back of the man's slightly balding head. What a tool.

"Charity auctions also raise awareness," Bruce pointed out. "Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought this wasn't your scene."

"It's not, but there's a necklace up for auction that Krysta claims she just _has_ to have."

"Krysta?"

"My wife."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Wife? What happened to Mandy?"

Roger shrugged. "We weren't suited. Krysta's a much better fit for me."

"Didn't you say the same thing about Mandy after Nozomi?"

"Did I? Sometimes it's hard to keep track."

"I'll bet," Bruce muttered dryly as Roger turned to greet Dick, giving Jason his first view of the man's face.

Cold shock slammed into him. The face was older than when he'd last seen it, but there was no mistaking that arrogant smile: Roger Weldon.

Jason stared at the man. He couldn't breathe. What the hell was he doing here?! _How_ was he here? Why was he– His instincts screamed into overdrive when the man suddenly clapped Dick on the shoulder. Before Jason knew what he was doing, he had grabbed the man's hand and shoved him away from the boy.

There was a moment of shocked silence before Dick hissed, "Jason! What the hell?!"

But Jason was still trying to catch his breath, hands shaking ever so slightly as he continued to stare at the man.

"Sorry about that, Roger," Bruce's apologetic voice sounded. "Jason is Dick's bodyguard and he's trained to react quickly."

"Bit of an _over_ reaction, I'd say," Roger commented, rubbing his chest where Jason had shoved him, and staring at him with a somewhat shocked look.

"I'm sorry," said Bruce again, "but Dick was kidnapped three weeks ago and Jason was with him when it happened. I'm afraid he's still a little on edge − isn't that right, Jason?"

"Uh…" Jason glanced back at Bruce, who was shooting him a warning look. Shit. Right. Not his world; this wasn't the same Roger. "Er, yeah. Sorry. I just…reacted." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dick gawping up at him and shook himself. _Snap out of it._ "Like Bruce said, I'm just a little on edge. Sorry about that."

It made Jason's skin crawl to apologize.

With a bemused head shake, Roger shrugged and held out a hand. "Ah, well, no harm done, and I can't blame a man for doing his job. Don't worry about it."

Jason forced himself to shake hands. The asshole even used the same aftershave – its smell was coating the inside of his nostrils, making him want to throw up. Jason managed a smile he was fairly sure looked more like a snarl.

The awkward situation was rescued by a female voice crying, " _There_ you are, Roggie!" and an impressively endowed blond in a dress she must have been sewn into draped herself across Roger. She looked at least fifteen years younger than him.

"Sorry, baby," the man cooed, dropping Jason's hand to slip his own around her waist. Jason quickly wiped his hand on his trousers. "Just saying hello to an old friend. Bruce, meet my wife, Krysta. Krysta, this is Bruce Wayne."

Bruce held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Krysta."

"I've seen you on TV!" the woman squealed, grabbing Bruce's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "You're, like, one of the richest men in the country!"

Jason missed Bruce's response to such a monumental faux-pas, because his attention was drawn by Dick tapping his arm. "Jason, are you okay?" he whispered, staring up at him in concern.

Jason forced a smile. "Just fine, kiddo."

"You don't look fine," Dick disagreed, frowning. "You're all white and shaky."

"Must be coming down with something."

Dick snorted. "Yeah, right! Seriously, Jay, what gives?"

"Nothing. I'm fi–"

"Dick," Roger's loud voice interrupted him, "come and meet my wife."

Plastering a smile on his face, Dick turned to face the Weldons.

Roger beamed at the boy, making Jason want to punch him in the face. "Dick, this is my wife, Krysta. Krysta, this is Bruce's son, Dick."

Dick held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Weldon."

"Oh, aren't you the cutest little thing!" Krysta squealed, ignoring Dick's hand and patting his head. "That tux is just _darling_ on you."

Jason scowled on Dick's behalf. He was thirteen, not three!

Roger roared with laughter. "Careful, Krysta, or his bodyguard might get the wrong idea…James, wasn't it?"

"Jason," he corrected through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to smash Roger's head in.

"Right, right. Anyway, Jason here takes his job very seriously – he sent me flying just a few minutes ago! Nearly ended up flat on my ass." The man chuckled obnoxiously and Jason scowled again.

"Oh, relax," said Roger. "I'm just teasing. Jeez, I gotta hand it to you, Bruce, your taste in bodyguards is as bad as your taste in women! Remember that nurse you dated back in college? Raquel?"

"Rachel," Bruce sighed. "And she was a doctor."

"Whatever. Point is, her sense of humour was as AWOL as Jason's here. Girl just didn't know how to take a joke."

"Possibly because your idea of a joke involved touching her in some way," Bruce reminded him with a smile that was so fake Jason was amazed Roger couldn't see through it.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? She had a very impressive ass, and I'm not the kind of man to resist temptation!" He chortled, ignoring his wife's offended expression and nudged Bruce with his elbow. The billionaire made no response. "Still, at least Dick here has a sense of humour…right, kid?" Roger clapped Dick across the shoulder again, making Jason bristle.

Dick managed a weak smile at Roger.

"Good sense of humour, that's what you need to woo the ladies," Roger continued and leaned closer to Dick. "So, kid, any girlfriends yet?"

"I think Dick's a little young for girlfriends, Roger," Bruce spoke up.

"Ha! That's rich coming from the biggest playboy in town! C'mon, Bruce, you and I both know you're never too young to appreciate a beautiful woman…right, baby?" He leered at his wife, right arm still wrapped around her waist, while his left hand rested on Dick's shoulder.

Jason's own hand twitched with the urge to remove the hand from Dick. This may not be the Roger Weldon from his world, but Jason still didn't want him touching the boy. Every nerve under his skin was crawling at their close proximity.

The women's annoyed expression faded and she tinkled out the most cliché laugh Jason had ever heard in his life before nuzzling into her husband. "Oh, Roggie, you're so _bad!_ "

"That's 'cause you like me bad," the man oozed, practically making Jason gag at his tacky, bullshit lines.

Bruce cleared his throat and Roger laughed. "Sorry, old man, but we're newlyweds after all, honeymoon phase and all that."

"Uh-huh," said Bruce, his smile brittle.

"Hey," said Roger suddenly, staring across the room, "isn't that Harold Eckhart? Who's the babe he's with? Don't tell me that uptight old fart's actually found himself some hot ass?"

"That's his daughter, Madeline," said Bruce, his smile getting thinner by the second. Jason knew Bruce was as irked as he was by the man's disgusting lack of tact in front of Dick.

"His daughter?" Roger repeated, leering in the direction of the beautiful brunette. "How did that ugly old geezer produce something as hot as that? Man, what a body – seems a shame to hide it under that dress, doesn't it?"

"I need a drink," Krysta announced, scowling as she pulled away from Roger and stalked off.

"Oops." Roger grinned, totally unperturbed. "I'm gonna have to buy some serious jewels now or I'll end up sleeping in the spare room tonight. I'd better go after her. See you later, old man," he threw at Bruce, before turning back to Dick and squeezing his shoulder. "Let that be a lesson, kid, never compliment another woman in front of your girlfriend."

Something in Roger's expression as he smiled at Dick made alarm bells blare in Jason's head. But before he could react, the man was waving and trotting away.

"How do you know him?" Jason demanded at once, rounding on Bruce.

"We went to college together."

"How? He has to be at least ten years older than you." Jason was aware of how on edge he sounded, but the encounter had rattled him. He needed a shower.

"Roger took off travelling after finishing high school. He was in his late twenties before he went to college. I think the only reason he went was because his father threatened to disinherit him if he refused." Bruce narrowed his eyes at Jason. "Why are you so interested?"

"Just curious as to how you know such a jerk."

Dick snorted. "Jerk's putting it lightly; the guy's a total tool!"

"Then I guess you won't be taking his advice about women?" asked Bruce, a slight smile on his face.

"Ew," said Dick, with all the distaste of a teenager.

Bruce laughed and ruffled his hair. "Come on. The auction is going to start soon and I know how much you want a good seat."

"You're kidding, right? Bruce, please don't make me sit at the front!"

Only half listening to Bruce tease Dick, Jason followed them to the auction room, his mind in utter chaos. He was completely thrown by the appearance of the man who'd destroyed his childhood, and rattled by his own reaction. Jason hadn't expected an old ghost to spook him so much. He was also unnerved by his over familiarity with Dick. It didn't matter that Bruce – despite his clear dislike of Weldon – obviously didn't consider him a threat, Jason's instincts were screaming, _danger! Danger!_ He would have to tear apart every aspect of Weldon's history as soon as this auction was over.

Because Jason wasn't buying into that playboy bullshit for one second. His gut told him that this man was every bit as twisted and perverted as the bastard from his own world.

oOo

"Fuck." Jason sat back in his chair and stared at the computer screen in frustration.

It was almost nine a.m. and he'd been up all night researching Roger Weldon. Jason knew every tiny, insignificant detail of the man's life history and nothing pointed to him being anything other than a lecherous playboy. Currently married to wife number five, he was notorious for his love of beautiful women, fast cars and wild parties – a walking, talking, rich guy cliché. He spent most of his time jetting around the world, letting his older brother and younger sister run the family company. Jason had even checked into their history in an effort to find something, but both were more low-profile than Roger. Kevin, the older brother, was married with two teenage children, whilst their younger sister, Amanda, had come out as gay five years previously and lived with her partner in New York. Both avoided the public eye as much as possible, unlike Roger, who seemed to go out of his way to court the paparazzi.

Jason found that a little suspicious. Unless you were a Kardashian, who wanted that kind of notoriety? Even Bruce in his playboy 'Brucie' persona was known for being fiercely protective of his privacy. Why was Roger so determined to prove to the world what a ladies' man he was? Was it because he was trying to hide where his perverted predilections really lay?

He ignored the voice in his head – the one that sounded annoyingly like Bruce – pointing out that this Roger Weldon wasn't the same as the one from his own world: this Roger Weldon didn't come from a powerful crime family, hadn't killed his brother when he was twenty-five to seize power of said crime family, wasn't neck deep in the twisted machinations of Gotham's underworld… The voice didn't matter because Jason's gut was telling him otherwise.

His apartment buzzer shrilled, making him jerk. Jason scowled. Why was he so fucking jumpy?

Getting to his feet, he padded across the living room to the door and peered through the peephole. Bruce was staring back at him expectantly. Sighing irritably, Jason opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you too," said Bruce, strolling past him into the apartment.

Huffing to himself, Jason closed the door. When Bruce Wayne had something to say, you listened…whether you wanted to or not. "What do you want, Bruce?"

"I want to know if you're okay."

Jason stared at him incredulously. "You came here at nine a.m. on a Saturday just to check if I'm okay?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you seemed a little rattled after meeting Roger Weldon last night."

Jason shrugged. "I had a run in with the Roger Weldon from my world a few years ago and I just reacted to this guy because of it. No big deal."

"If it's no big deal then why were you up all night?"

"Who says I was up all night?" Jason demanded, more aggressively than he'd intended. But he'd be damned if he was going to stand here and dig up all the crap he'd worked so hard to bury.

"Your clothes."

Jason glanced down. He was still in his shirt and pants from the night before, and both were looking a little crinkled. "I slept in them."

"I passed here at three and you were on your computer."

"Were you spying on me?!"

"Catwoman robbed a jewellery store two blocks from here and I chased her across the rooftops. It was a complete coincidence that she came this way."

"Yeah, right!"

"It's the truth, Jason, which is more than you gave me. You said you were too tired to patrol after the auction, that you'd been up for two nights straight and–"

"I didn't lie; I _was_ up for two nights straight!"

"Then why didn't you sleep?"

"I couldn't sleep. Jetlag."

"You travelled between worlds, not time zones," Bruce pointed out, lips quirking in a half-smile. When Jason didn't respond, the smile faded and Bruce sighed. "Jason, I don't care about you missing patrol, I'm more concerned about the why. It must be important if you're willing to disappoint Dick – something I know you hate and actively avoid."

Jason frowned. "Why was Dick disappointed?"

"Because you promised him before you left last Saturday that Robin and Red Hood would patrol together on Friday night."

Guilt twanged in Jason's stomach. "Shit. I forgot about that. Sorry."

Bruce frowned. "I'm not here because you disappointed Dick, Jason, I'm here because I'm worried about you. You were completely distracted and on edge last night."

Jason wanted to smack himself for being so obvious in front of the World's Greatest Detective. This shit was the last thing he wanted _anyone_ to know about. He'd left it dead and buried in another world, and it was going to fucking stay there! He wasn't going to taint the life he'd built for himself here.

"Jason?" Bruce was studying him with concern and with a jolt, Jason realized that he knew exactly how to divert him from this line of questioning.

"You're right, I was distracted last night. Joker's escaped, Bruce." Jason felt a little sick at his own ability to use the thing that had caused them all such misery to throw attention off of himself, but he couldn't deal with anyone knowing about Weldon. Dealing with it the first time had nearly broken him.

Bruce's eyes narrowed into slits. "Escaped?"

"Yeah, about a week before I arrived. He killed a doctor and two guards in the process. Bruce hasn't managed to find him yet and Joker's been staying weirdly off radar." Jason scowled. He may have been using this to divert Bruce, but that didn't mean it wasn't worrying him. A quiet Joker was even more dangerous than a loud one; the calm before the violent shitstorm.

"Does your mentor have any idea what he's up to?"

Jason shook his head. "It's always been impossible to predict Joker before he makes a move. Once his sick games are in play Bruce can usually intercept them, but he rarely knows what Joker will do until he's actually done it."

"His unpredictability is the most dangerous thing about him."

Jason nodded. Fucking psychopath.

"Do you think he'll come back to this world?" asked Bruce, brows knit low and eyes tight with worry.

"No. We considered the possibility, but Joker killed the only scientist in our world capable of creating an inter-dimensional portal the night he blasted us here."

Bruce looked relieved and Jason couldn't blame him. Joker had almost killed Robin, the last thing they wanted was him back in this world to try again. "What are you going to tell Dick?" Jason asked.

"Nothing. He doesn't need to know."

"Yes, he does! This concerns him and he deserves to know."

"If Joker can't return to this world then it doesn't concern him. He's still dealing with what Joker did to him, he doesn't need to worry about this as well."

Jason couldn't argue with Bruce since he'd been worried about that too, but he couldn't help feeling guilty. They had promised Dick there would be no more secrets. "Maybe we should tell him once Joker is caught?"

Bruce hesitated, then nodded. "Alright. But _only_ once he's been apprehended. Is your mentor going to keep you updated on the search?"

"Yeah. Although…" Jason paused. He had been planning on going back to aid in the search, but now that he had something more immediate to concern him in this world, he couldn't leave.

Bruce gave him a suspicious look. "Although what, Jason?"

"I had planned on going back to help but if I do, won't Dick get suspicious?" Jason threw out the first thing that occurred to him. He couldn't let Bruce know that Roger Weldon was the reason he needed to stay.

Bruce frowned. "Yes, he will."

"Then I should probably stay here."

Bruce's frown deepened and Jason could see he was torn between protecting Dick from the knowledge of Joker's escape and potentially catching him faster. Finally, he sighed. "There's no guarantee Joker will be caught any quicker with your assistance. You should stay here. You can always return to the other Gotham for an update while Dick is at school."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, relieved. He now had a cast-iron excuse to stay here, and would be able to investigate Weldon more thoroughly. He may not be able to dig up anything online, but that didn't mean a more thorough check wouldn't reveal something – monsters like Weldon couldn't keep their perverted sides hidden forever.

Especially not when Red Hood was hunting them.

oOo

Jason was close to exploding. So much so that blowing the heads off some criminals to feel better was seriously starting to feel like an option.

A week of digging on Roger Weldon and the only thing he'd succeeded in doing was dredging up buried memories. He hadn't managed to unearth anything on Weldon – not even so much as a parking ticket!

Jason knew that didn't mean much since Weldon struck him as the kind of asshole who would pay to make things like parking tickets go away. Not that he cared about parking tickets, he was more concerned with the _other_ things Weldon's money could make disappear. Which was why he was currently pulling the insane stunt of breaking into Weldon's house at three p.m. on a Friday afternoon. Bruce would flip his shit if he knew the risk Jason was taking, but he had no choice; he'd already searched Weldon's seldom used office and found nothing, while searches of the times Weldon had been abroad had revealed nothing suspicious in those locations.

Jason was uncomfortably aware that his persistence despite the lack of evidence was bordering on obsession, but he couldn't let this go.

"Finally," he muttered as the alarm deactivated. It had taken him almost two minutes to disarm it, a fact that irked him when he knew Dick could have done it in thirty seconds. It didn't matter that Dick was insanely talented when it came to computers, Jason's ego still smarted that a thirteen-year-old could beat him at something.

Closing the alarm panel, Jason headed around the side of the house to the French doors that led into the library. Four days of watching the house told him it was the room he was least likely to be disturbed in: Weldon and his wife weren't exactly readers.

As he started to pick the lock, Jason kept an ear out for the housekeeper, who was the only person on the property. Weldon and his wife were gone to the family estate in the city for his nephew's birthday party, bringing the maid with them as extra help. The gardener only worked Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, while today was the cook's day off. It was Jason's best chance to search the house undisturbed.

The lock clicked and Jason carefully pushed open the door. Closing it behind him, he crossed over to the inner door to check it was fully closed before searching the room. After almost fifty minutes of nothing, he decided to move on to Weldon's study. The housekeeper took her break every day at four, during which she watched her soaps. Jason would have at least sixty minutes of undisturbed search time in the study, possibly more since the Weldons were out. His observations had revealed the housekeeper as being rather partial to sitting down every chance she got.

Her laziness was something else that niggled at Jason. Years of living with Bruce and attending fancy parties had taught him that rich people liked things to run smoothly and often expected the impossible from their staff, yet Weldon's slapdash housekeeper had worked for him for over ten years. Jason had to wonder why a man who was clearly used to the best of everything kept on a housekeeper like that. Was it because he knew her half-assed attention to detail meant it was easier to slip things by her?

Creeping upstairs to Weldon's study, Jason stayed alert. The housekeeper was in the kitchen – on the far side of the mansion – watching her soaps, but that didn't mean he should let his guard down. If he was seen, if it got out that Red Hood was investigating Weldon, Batman would get involved. And _that_ would lead to Bruce finding out about Jason's past, something Jason definitely did not want. Knowing about it would make it real here and he was determined to keep that shit where it belonged: dead and buried.

Arriving at the study, Jason quickly picked the lock and slipped into the room, closing the door behind him before turning on the light. This room was the reason he had chosen to search the house – it was Weldon's private sanctuary, the room he spent two hours of every night closeted away in. And while his idiot wife might believe he was working, Jason doubted a man who went into the office only a few times a month was spending his evenings buried in spreadsheets.

Jason turned on the computer, then rooted through the desk while it started up. The sparse desk held nothing but a notebook and a few pens, confirming his suspicions. This wasn't a room used for work. Turning his attention back to the computer, Jason began trawling through its files and internet history. But all he found were pictures of Weldon's family, a couple of work contracts, nothing-out-of-the-ordinary porn and a typical web history of information searching, email log-ins, and online shopping. Frustrated, Jason shut down the computer and rummaged around the room instead.

He would have been happy to let this go, relieved even to admit he was wrong, but he couldn't take a chance on Weldon being innocent. Doing so risked innocent lives and Jason knew only too well the devastation such monsters could wreak, even long after the monsters were gone.

For the past week, he'd been having the same nightmares that haunted him as a kid, of being pinned beneath a writhing, sweaty mass, unable to breathe, before being woken by the strong urge to vomit. It was beyond enraging to discover that his old nightmares could still incapacitate him. And it didn't help that sometimes the nightmares changed, sometimes it was Dick suffocating beneath the writhing, sweaty mass. When that happened, the instinct to murder wrung Jason from his sleep, trembling and sweating like a strung-out junkie. He needed to bury this shit before he went over the edge enough to act on that instinct.

Because Jason kind of wanted to destroy Weldon just for the sick shit he had forced him to relive, for the murderous intentions he'd reawakened. He'd been done with all that crap until Weldon's ugly-ass face showed up. And the poison was leaching into other areas of Jason's life: he'd been avoiding Bruce and Dick ever since last weekend because he couldn't face them, couldn't risk them figuring out his secret, couldn't deal with them knowing what he had done. He couldn't deal with it himself if he was being honest about it.

Bruce had seemed fine with his avoidance, giving Jason his space after sending a single text asking for an update as soon as he had news on Joker. Dick, on the other hand, had been texting him several times a day to ask what was wrong. Jason had avoided giving a direct answer, telling Dick he was busy and would see him soon. But the boy was stubborn. He had shown up at Jason's apartment after school the day before, banging on the door and yelling at Jason to open up for almost ten minutes until Alfred had forced him to leave.

Jason, silent on the other side of the door, had been sick with guilt. He knew he was going about this the wrong way, but his head was too messed up to think straight.

 _Fucking Weldon,_ he thought bitterly. The bastard had already ruined his life once and now here he was doing it again.

He finished searching the filing cabinet and resisted the urge to slam it shut. There was nowhere left to look and he doubted Weldon would use any of the other rooms in this giant mansion to conceal such a secret. Too many people had access to those rooms.

Jason crouched down and began testing the wooden floorboards to see if any were loose, pissed that his actions had officially crossed into obsessive and desperate. He was totally ready to mess with Weldon after all this. Even if the man was innocent he was still enough of an asshole that a guilt-free Jason could–

 _There._

The scuff marks were barely discernible. Jason only saw them because he was crouched on the floor searching for a flaw and the small scratches looked out of place on the gleaming, polished wood. Edging over to the scratches, he carefully pressed and pried at the wood, but it didn't budge.

Jason snorted to himself because seriously, how cliché would it have been if he found evidence under the damn floor?

But something was off about those scratches. He glanced around the room: its only furniture was an armchair by the fireplace, and the desk and chair beneath the window. And aside from their distance to the scratches, their legs didn't look like they had made the marks.

He narrowed his eyes at the scratches. They were old, slightly curved and repetitive, kind of like when a door is consistently opened and closed over a section of floor. Except the door was five feet away. He turned and studied the wood panelling that lined the walls. It looked typical of studies like this, but its proximity to the scratches…

Instinctively, Jason pressed on the nearest panel and it clicked before swinging open, scraping lightly over the marks on the floor.

 _You've got to be kidding me! The floor would have been less cliché._

He peered into the small space behind the panel and discovered a laptop and shoebox. _Bingo!_

Carefully, he took them out, turning on the computer first. While he waited for that to start up, he opened the box, almost dropping it when he saw the contents.

Naked children.

He'd been expecting it, but that didn't make it any less shocking or disturbing. Repressing the urge to vomit, Jason leafed quickly through the pictures. The last thing he wanted was to look at this shit, but he needed to find evidence of Weldon with a kid, otherwise he wouldn't be able to convince Commissioner Gordon to get a warrant to search this place. And Jason _needed_ Gordon to be the one to expose Weldon. Red Hood's involvement had to stay hidden.

He reached the end of the pictures and dropped them quickly back in the box. Weldon wasn't in any of them and Jason couldn't stomach touching them any longer. Turning his attention to the computer, he found the screen demanding a password. Bastard clearly had something to hide on this computer.

Jason tried hacking the system but realized quickly that it would take more time than he had to break through its security. Undeterred, he removed a USB from his jacket and plugged it in. Dick had spent the last few weeks designing a program to override computer passwords. The boy could hack pretty much any system, but his teammates didn't have that gift and this program would be useful for them on missions without Robin.

He tightened his jaw as he activated the program. It wasn't finished; Dick was still tweaking the coding for harder-to-hack systems. However, this system didn't look too high spec, so Jason hoped to fuck it would work. Otherwise, he'd just stolen from Dick for nothing.

There was a small beep and the screen lit up, logging into the desktop. "Way to go, kid," Jason whispered, pride in Dick's ability momentarily replacing his revulsion at this situation. He glanced at his watch. He had twenty-three minutes until the housekeeper's soaps finished.

Jason worked quickly, heading straight for the video folder. There were nineteen videos in total and he played them without sound, looking away frequently from the images on screen. This was fucking evil, disgusting and depraved! He burned from the need to put a bullet in Weldon's skull.

On the fifth video, he got lucky. Weldon was not only clearly visible, he was carrying out his depraved shit with a kid that didn't look much older than eleven. That would be enough. Jason saved the video, keeping his eyes averted from the perverted crap playing out onscreen. When he was finished, he quickly exited the video folder, hands shaking and vomit stinging in the back of his throat.

He took a quick glance in the pictures folder and found images like those in the shoebox, except some of these actually had Weldon in them. Jason saved those too before exiting. He felt disgusting and dirty. A bleach bath would be awesome right about now, especially if he could soak his brain in it.

Battling the urge to vomit, Jason shut down the laptop. He had enough to nail the bastard and he couldn't look at this anymore. Moving to put everything back behind the wood panel, he paused when he spotted a brown folder he hadn't noticed before. The laptop must have been sitting on it. Jason picked up the folder and opened it, then froze.

Dick's face stared back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks to all you epic peeps for your lovely feedback on chapter one. Virtual cookies and good karma to you all! :)

oOo

Jason stared in horror at the pictures of Dick. Most of them were newspaper clippings, but a few were photographs that had clearly been taken without his knowledge at the school drop-off point.

 _That son-of-a-bitch! That fucking son-of-a-bitch!_

Something white hot exploded inside of him and Jason started to shake. He had _known_ something was off about the way Weldon had looked at Dick! Goddamn bastard! Jason would kill him. He would kill him and cut him into tiny pieces, but not before cutting off his privates and force-feeding them to him.

Somewhere outside the room a clock chimed five, dragging Jason back to reality. His time was up. The housekeeper could appear upstairs at any moment. He couldn't risk being seen. If Weldon thought Red Hood was on to him, he would destroy the evidence.

But if that happened, Jason knew how to make Weldon disappear so that even Batman wouldn't find him.

Hands still shaking, Jason returned the folder, shoebox and laptop to the small space in the wall and closed the panel. Feeling dangerously off-kilter, he got to his feet. Blood rushed to his head and he put one hand against the wall to brace himself. His heart was pounding violently. Screw this shit. Screw this shit and the horse it rode in on! Bad enough this crap had followed him here…why the hell did it have to involve Dick?!

Unsteady on his feet, Jason crossed the room and turned off the light before exiting. He pulled the door shut and crouched down – picking a lock was tricky, but it was ten times trickier when your hands were shaking.

It took several minutes before he finally heard the lock click back into place. Letting out a ragged breath, he clambered to his feet and headed for the balcony at the end of the corridor – best not to go back downstairs to the library in case the housekeeper was pottering about.

Opening the doors and stepping outside, Jason took a deep breath, but the cold evening air did nothing to cool the fury burning inside him. Not since Joker had the instinct to kill been so strong: Weldon was a monster, one that _deserved_ to be put down.

Climbing down the trellis, he struggled to get his raging, conflicting emotions under control. He hadn't planned on this. On murder. His plan had been to hand any evidence he found over to Gordon. He'd prepared himself for the fact that Weldon was a child rapist, warned himself over and over that he wouldn't get carried away, but Dick's pictures had changed everything. Jason hadn't been prepared for that. And he couldn't stomach the thought of the bastard looking at those pictures and getting off.

He reached the ground and headed for the high wall surrounding the garden, agonizing over what to do. He wanted Weldon dead. Wanted him dead where he could never hurt another child again, not even with filthy thoughts. And he needed to ensure that Dick would be safe from any depraved intentions the bastard had. But killing Weldon wasn't just opening a can of worms, it was exploding it wide open and then rolling around in worm guts.

If this had been a few months ago, Jason would have thought nothing of castrating the fucker and giving him a horrible death. He deserved that and worse for the depraved shit he had done to innocent children. But Jason didn't _want_ to be that person anymore, the one who sought justice through violence and murder. He wanted to be the man that Dick thought him to be…so why did it have to be so damn _hard?_ Seriously, sometimes it felt like the universe wanted him to be a killer.

Reaching the massive wall surrounding the property, Jason discharged his grapple gun and vaulted over the enclosure. He landed on the other side and extracted the USB from his jacket pocket. He stared at it while trying to decide what to do. Take it to Gordon or take care of Weldon? He knew which one he _wanted_ to do and which one he _should_ do, but that didn't make his decision any easier.

Jason broke the consequences down. If he killed Weldon, then he could be certain that he would never harm another child again. However, he could also be certain that Weldon's disappearance would trigger an investigation by Batman. And after Jason's reaction to Weldon, who was he kidding about hiding it from Batman? It wouldn't take the Dark Knight long to piece everything together and then his whole disgusting, painful past would be splattered all over his life here. Not to mention what Bruce would do if Jason killed again: hunt him down, probably refuse to let him see Dick, or possibly even tell Dick that he was a killer! Jason couldn't bear the thought.

But what if he left Weldon to the mercy of the justice system? It had been Jason's experience that the justice system could sometimes be a little too merciful…could he really risk letting a monster like Weldon free again? True, he had enough evidence to ensure Weldon would go away for life, but it was getting him there that was the problem. Weldon was a rich bastard who would easily make bail and then flee the country to some exotic locale.

Unless he was charged with murder.

Jason's eyes narrowed. Murder was the one charge that guaranteed denial of bail. Weldon would be stuck in prison until his trial, and with the evidence in his study, there wasn't a jury in the world who wouldn't convict him. But could he prove that Weldon was a murderer?

Because Jason didn't doubt that he was. How else could he have kept his true nature from even Batman unless there were no victims left to tell their tales? Jason himself had only suspected Weldon because of his experience with the monster in his own world.

He tightened his jaw. He'd found the evidence he needed to prove Weldon was a depraved pervert; he could find the bodies of his victims. After all, Red Hood was an expert in hiding bodies, so who better to look for them? But he couldn't wait until he found a body before handing the evidence to the police – Weldon was too dangerous to let roam free any longer.

Jason stared at the USB, thinking hard. It was Friday evening, so he would likely have seventy-two hours until arraignment. Plenty of time to find a body.

Mind made up, he pocketed the USB and started down the hill to where his bike was hidden in the brush.

oOo

It was after seven when Jason, back in civilian clothes, let himself into the kitchen at Wayne Manor. Bruce had given him a key at Christmas, insisting that family shouldn't have to ring the doorbell when they called. After the Christmas bauble with his name that Dick had given him, it had been Jason's best present.

"Alfred?" he called, finding the kitchen empty. There was no response.

A plate of freshly baked cookies sat on the long table and Jason took one. He bit into it and chewed distractedly, his mind still running through the day's events. When he had delivered the USB to Commissioner Gordon, the officer had been horrified by its contents. He hadn't quite believed Red Hood's claims that he had downloaded the images from the dark web, especially after he had told him exactly where in Weldon's study to look, but he'd been more concerned with nailing Weldon than arguing with the vigilante about his tactics. And he had agreed to keep Red Hood's name out of the investigation…mostly because Gordon saying he received the evidence anonymously meant far less red tape. Before Red Hood had even left, Gordon had the affidavit prepared and was heading to see Judge Reinhold. Reinhold was one of Gotham's hardliners and believed in swift action, guaranteeing an immediate search warrant. Weldon would be in prison before nightfall.

Still chewing on the cookie, Jason wandered into the hall. "Alfred?"

The butler appeared in the living-room doorway wearing an apron and carrying a duster. "Master Jason, this is a nice surprise. We haven't seen you all week."

"Yeah, sorry. I had something to take care of but it's all sorted now. Where's Bruce?"

"Master Bruce is still at the office. He has a late conference call and won't be home until after ten."

Jason swallowed the last of his cookie. "Bruce works too hard. What about Dick? Is he on a mission with the team?"

"No. Master Dick is at a friend's birthday party. Master Bruce will collect him on the way home."

"Cool." Jason was relieved. A team mission might have occupied Robin for the entire weekend, and Jason was eager to see Dick. He felt guilty for pretending he wasn't home when Dick called to his apartment yesterday.

Then what Alfred said caught up with him. "Wait! What birthday party?"

"Tim Weldon, a friend from school."

Something cold shivered through him. "Tim Weldon? As in…Kevin Weldon's son?"

"Yes."

"Tim Weldon is a junior! How does Dick even know him?!"

Alfred frowned. "He is on the mathlete team with Master Dick."

"Why didn't Bruce have me go with Dick as his bodyguard?"

"You were not needed. The Weldon family always ensure the tightest security for their children. Master Dick has been to the house for birthday parties before."

Jason shook his head, alarm kick-starting his adrenaline. "I'm getting Dick now! Alfred, call the Weldons and let them know I'm on my way."

"Master Jason, what–"

"I'll explain later," said Jason, turning and running back through the kitchen.

He tore out the back door and jumped on his bike. Barely pausing to throw on his helmet, he gunned the engine and took off, stones skittering in every direction. His heart was pounding as he drove at speed down the driveway, shooting through the gates before they were even halfway open.

 _Fuckshit!_ he thought, pressing every ounce of speed out of his motorcycle. Dick was more than two years younger than Tim Weldon, it had never even crossed his mind that he would be at that party!

He knew he was overreacting; a man as cautious as Weldon wasn't going to risk everything for a kid as high profile as Dick. But it was hard to be rational when he kept flashing back to the pictures he'd found in Weldon's study.

 _Use your head, he's not going to attack Dick in his family home!_

The house had been in Weldon's family for over a hundred years and the man had grown up there. Only an idiot would commit a crime they could be connected to and whatever else Weldon may be, he wasn't stupid. Besides, Dick had been to that house before and Weldon had never tried anything.

The thought calmed him a little, but he didn't reduce his speed. Now that he knew for certain Weldon was a monster, Jason was taking no chances. Ten minutes later, he arrived at Greyhawk Hills, the most exclusive piece of real estate in the city. Parking his bike haphazardly on the sidewalk outside the Weldon mansion, Jason pressed the intercom.

"Yes?" a male voice spoke.

"My name is Jason Todd. I'm here to pick up Dick Grayson."

It was a minute before the voice responded. "I'm sorry, Mr. Todd, but you're not on the guest list."

"I know, but Alfred Pennyworth sent me. He called the Weldons to let them know."

"Please give me a few minutes to verify that," the voice told him.

Sizzling with impatience, Jason glanced through the front gates. They, and the walls surrounding the property, were twelve foot high. A smaller, steel gate for pedestrian access was located to his right, and he could see several security guards with dogs patrolling the grounds, which were lit up with spotlights. Alfred had been right about security being tight. The problem was the security was designed to repel _outside_ threats and Jason was more concerned about the _inside_ threat.

After several minutes, the male voice sounded over the intercom again. "One of the guards is on his way. He will check you and your ID before escorting you to the house."

"I see him," said Jason, spotting a man leading a Doberman across the lawn.

"ID," said the guard, drawing level with the gates. Jason immediately passed his driver's licence through the bars. The man scrutinised the licence and Jason's face before handing it back. "Do you have any weapons?"

"No," said Jason shortly. The 'no guns' policy still bugged him.

"I'm going to need to check you," the guard informed him, typing at the security panel. The pedestrian gate swung open and Jason entered.

"Arms out," the guard instructed and Jason complied, silently allowing himself to be searched but ready to explode with frustration. This was taking too long!

"Follow me," said the guard finally. Jason followed him up the long drive, relaxing a little when he saw the huge line of expensive cars. It looked like several parents had joined their kids at this shin dig. Good. That many people decreased the chance of Weldon trying anything.

 _Knock it off. He's not stupid enough to try something here anyway._ Jason's overreaction was just an abundance of caution.

They reached the front door, where two security guards stood beside a man in an expensive sweater and slacks. Jason recognized him as Kevin Weldon. "Mr. Weldon," he greeted, "my name is Jason Todd. Did Alfred Pennyworth call you?"

"My wife spoke with him. He said there's a family emergency – I do hope everything is alright?" Kevin raised a concerned eyebrow as he spoke.

"Nothing major," Jason replied, wishing he had taken a minute to concoct a cover story with Alfred. "We just need Dick to come home."

"I see. Well, come in then."

Kevin opened the front door and they entered a massive, opulent hallway. Shrieks of laughter wafted out to greet them from the room on the left. Closing the door behind them, Kevin raised his voice and said, "Please excuse the noise. Just my son and fifty of his closest friends."

"Sounds more like fifty elephants," Jason commented, as a gaggle of teenage girls exited the noisy room, whispering and giggling. They paid no attention to the two adults as they trouped past and continued down a long corridor towards a faint echo of yells and splashes.

Kevin grimaced. "I know. I never would have believed that teenagers could be noisier than toddlers if I didn't have two myself. I'd much rather have the party at a hotel, but logistically, it's far less secure."

Jason made a noise of agreement while trying to hide his impatience. "Mr. Weldon, where's Dick?"

"My wife went to fetch him after Mr. Pennyworth called. Between the kids and their parents, there's more than a hundred people here, and the party is spread out between the pool and all of the ground floor. I told my wife to bring Dick here."

"Smart move," Jason acknowledged. This house was almost as big as Wayne Manor; he could only imagine how long it took to find someone during a party like this.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before Kevin asked, "So, have you being doing private security for long, Mr. Todd?"

"A couple of years."

"But you haven't worked with any of Gotham's private security firms?"

Jason shook his head and fed him their established line. "I worked with a family in South Africa before this. A mutual friend introduced me to Bruce."

"Ah. That explains why I don't recognize your face. I've used all of Gotham's security firms at one time or another, so I know most of the men in the trade."

"You don't use the same firm or the same guys?" Jason frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. Private security worked best with established personnel.

"I do now. But it took a few years to find a company I was happy with."

"Who–"

"Kevin," a voice interrupted Jason, and he turned to see an attractive blond woman join them. "Can you please do something about Roger? He's in the living room telling inappropriate jokes. I think it's making some of the guests uncomfortable." The woman looked annoyed and Jason recognized her as Vanessa Weldon, Kevin's wife.

"I'll deal with him in a minute. Honey, this is Jason Todd. He's here to collect Dick."

Vanessa smiled at Jason and held her hand out. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Todd."

"Likewise," said Jason, shaking her hand. "Where's Dick?"

"I haven't found him yet. I was just on my way to the den to see if he's in there." She indicated the noisy room before turning to her husband. "Honey…living room. Roger. Please?" She gave the man a pleading look before disappearing into the room on their left.

Kevin sighed. "Can you excuse me for a moment, Mr. Todd? My brother's humour doesn't really mesh well with occasions like this."

"No problem," replied Jason. That didn't surprise him – Weldon was an obnoxious, crass asshole. It was hard to believe he was related to the courteous man in front of him.

Kevin Weldon disappeared down the hall just as his wife exited the den. "I'm sorry, Mr. Todd, Dick isn't in there; I must have missed him somewhere. I'll check the other rooms again."

"Why don't I just call Dick on his cell?" Jason suggested. "It would save time."

"Good idea."

Retrieving his phone, he dialled Dick's number. It went straight to voicemail and unease furled in his stomach. Dick knew to always keep his phone charged and on.

"You didn't get him?" asked Vanessa, as he returned his phone to his pocket.

"Voicemail," he said, shaking his head. "Mrs. Weldon, would you mind searching for him again?"

"Of course, just give me a few minutes." She smiled and hurried away.

Jason stared after her, his unease growing. Where was Dick?

He tried calling Dick's cell twice more, the sick feeling in his gut intensifying each time the call went to voicemail. He was visibly on edge when Kevin Weldon returned several minutes later.

The man looked surprised. "Hasn't my wife located Dick?"

Jason gave a tense shake of the head and Kevin frowned. "I think Tim is in the den, just let me get him." He stuck his head into the room on the left and called his son.

A tall, gangly teenager with blond hair stepped into the hall. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Have you seen Dick?"

The teenager looked a little confused. "No, not for a while."

Kevin's frown deepened. "Where did you last see him?"

"Uhhh…the games room. I think."

"Okay. Thanks, Tim."

As his son disappeared back into the den, Jason addressed Kevin, "I don't like this. I've tried Dick's cell several times; it keeps going straight to voicemail."

"Please don't worry, Mr. Todd, I'm sure Dick is around here somewhere. I'm just going to check the games room, okay?"

Tightening his jaw, Jason watched the man disappear down the hall for a second time. Waiting and watching as teenagers moved between rooms, he found it hard to stay calm. Dick's cell was still going to voicemail and time was ticking past. When Vanessa returned almost twenty minutes later without Dick, Jason was ready to freak out. "You still haven't found him?!"

Looking concerned, she shook her head. "And no one has seen him. Security is checking the rest of the house just in case he's fallen ill somewhere. He's still not answering his cell?"

"It's going straight to voicemail," said Jason, fear twisting in his stomach. "I think we should call the police."

"There's no need for that, Mr. Todd. I promise you, no one could make it off this property with Dick. Kevin has gone to check the security tapes for outside, and security are searching the whole house. He has to be around here somewhere."

Jason nodded tersely, trying to force himself to get a grip. What she said made sense. This place was like Fort Knox – no way had anyone gotten Dick out of here. He had to be on the property somewhere.

"Kevin is going to meet us in the living room when he's finished checking the tapes. Would you mind following me, Mr. Todd?"

Jason wanted to argue. He wanted to tear this house apart until he found Dick. But this was the Weldons' home and he needed their cooperation to find Dick, so he followed her down the vast corridor into a large living room that was packed with people.

"Can I get you anything?" Vanessa asked. "Tea? Coffee?"

Jason shook his head impatiently. "How long will–"

"Joseph, my boy!" a familiar, obnoxious voice boomed and someone clapped Jason on the shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"It's. _Jason_ ," he ground out through clenched teeth, turning to face a smirking Roger Weldon.

"Soor– _ry!_ " said Weldon, rolling his eyes. "Christ, are you really always this touchy?"

"You two know each other?" Vanessa asked in surprise.

"Met last weekend at the Wayne Foundation charity auction," Weldon replied, clapping him on the shoulder again. Jason jerked away and barely refrained from smashing his fucking teeth in.

"Don't like to be touched, huh?" said Weldon, holding his hands up. "My bad."

"Mr. Todd is here to collect Dick," Vanessa interjected in an obvious effort to break the tension. "We're just having a little trouble locating him."

Weldon looked surprised. "A little early, aren't you?"

Jason narrowed his eyes. Was it just him or did the bastard look worried? Had he _done_ something?!

Rage and revulsion surged through him. If that bastard had done _anything_ to hurt Dick… Trying to keep his voice calm, Jason turned to the woman beside him. "Mrs. Weldon, do you have any security cameras inside the house?"

She shook her head. "There's no need. We restrict guest access to the ground floor only, and we have security patrolling inside to ensure that rule is respected."

"Like that ever works," said Roger, rolling his eyes. "Dad had the same rule, but do you know how many chicks I brought upstairs as a kid at one of these things?"

"Roger, please!" Vanessa gave him a disparaging look. It was obvious she didn't care much for her brother-in-law. Turning back to Jason, she gave him a reassuring smile. "Please don't worry, Mr. Todd, we'll find Dick."

Before Jason could respond, they were joined by Kevin Weldon and a tall, burly security guard. "It's the strangest thing," said Kevin, his expression tight, "we've checked all the security footage and no one has left this house since the party began, but security have had no luck so far with locating Dick."

Weldon snorted. "All this fuss 'cause one teenager has gone AWOL at a high school party? Bet the kid has hooked up with some hot little number! You should check the bedrooms."

Weldon making an association between Dick and bedrooms nearly sent Jason over the edge. But he forced himself to reign it in; accusing Weldon without any evidence could offend his family and Jason couldn't afford to get kicked off the property. Not until they tracked Dick down.

So he faced the Weldons and said, "We need to call the police."

They looked startled. "The police?" Kevin repeated. "That seems a little extreme – security haven't yet finished searching the house, they could still find Dick."

"Then we can call the police back," said Jason shortly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weldon, but something's not right here and I'm not wasting any more time just standing around."

"This seems like a lot of fuss over nothing," Roger Weldon interjected. "The kid has to be around here somewhere."

"So where is he?" snapped Jason.

"How should I know?" Roger retorted and something odd flashed in his expression.

Jason's gut lurched. The bastard _did_ know where Dick was! He was sure of it.

It took all his self-control not to beat the living shit out of him and demand to know where Dick was. Jason had to be logical about this: there was no way Weldon could have taken Dick off the property – security was too tight for that. He must have stashed him somewhere.

"Tell you what, _Roger,_ since you're so certain that Dick is here somewhere, why don't you help me search for him while your brother calls the police?" No way was Jason letting this bastard out of his sight now!

"Hang on," Kevin interjected. "Mr. Todd, I understand that you're concerned about Dick but I don't know you and I'm not very comfortable with you searching through our home. Besides, security is already doing a sweep of the house, they'll find Dick."

"But maybe I can help find him faster? I know I'm probably overreacting and there's a good chance he's around here somewhere, but Dick's safety is my job and I take it very seriously. Please let me look?" Jason plastered a smile on his face and hoped it didn't look too much like a snarl. This standing around and scratching like a bunch of apes made him want to scream.

Kevin sighed. "Very well. I'll escort you."

"Actually, I would really appreciate it if you could call the police."

"My wife can–"

"I really can't continue to impose on both of you," Jason interrupted, banking on the Weldons' impeccable manners. "You have a lot of guests here and I've taken up too much of your time as it is." Alfred would have been proud. Silently he thanked the butler for his lessons in bullshit etiquette. "I'm sure Roger can escort me."

Kevin conceded reluctantly. "Alright. Roger, do you mind?"

The other man shrugged. "Fine. But I still think you're all overreacting."

"And take Gerald with you," Kevin added, gesturing to the burly security guard beside him. "He knows where security have searched already and will be able to check in with the other teams."

Jason nodded, and they left the room.

"Where do you want to start then?" Roger asked, a smile back on his face once more.

"Upstairs," replied Jason shortly. He didn't like that smirk – Weldon looked entirely too pleased about something.

"Your call."

Weldon led the way upstairs. "These are the guest rooms," he informed Jason, turning left into a long corridor. "Pretty good spot for a horny teenager to vanish into, wouldn't you say?"

Jason ignored him and practiced the art of how not to murder an asshole.

Weldon opened the first door and Jason entered to find an extremely spacious bedroom with a large seating area, an ensuite bathroom and separate dressing room. He immediately went to work searching the room.

"Going a little overboard, aren't you?" laughed Weldon, as he watched Jason open a closet door. "Why would the kid be in there?"

"I'm being thorough," Jason retorted, ignoring the desire to smash his smug face in. Not being able to rip this monster apart was really starting to eat at him.

"Whatever you say," said Weldon with an amused smirk, either oblivious or uncaring of Jason's antagonism.

Jason finished his search and they moved on to the second room, which was just as large. But whereas the first room had contained dark mahogany furniture and rich, heavy tapestries, this room was light and modern, decorated in a neutral palette of taupe and cream.

"Looks like Vanessa finally got her hands on this room," Weldon commented. When Jason didn't respond he continued, "This was the old man's house – Kevin inherited it when he died a few months ago, and Vanessa's been working on the décor since they moved in. Traditional isn't really her thing." Weldon cast a disparaging look around the room. "Can't say the girly bridal look she's got going on is much better but, whatever. I don't have to live here."

Jason still didn't respond, but he was surprised by Weldon's bitter tone. It sounded like the bastard was actually _attached_ to the house.

They searched the rest of the bedrooms on that corridor and came to another, shorter corridor branching off perpendicular to the one they were on. "Where does that lead?" Jason asked, pointing.

"Library, study, another sitting room," Weldon replied. "Nothing too exciting."

"I want to search it."

"Security have already cleared this corridor," Gerald, the security guard, spoke up.

"They searched this one but didn't search the one before it?" said Jason suspiciously. That didn't make sense.

The guard shrugged. "All the corridors are connected to each other. They must have started with the corridor they were patrolling on and worked their way around. They probably just haven't looped back to the guest corridor yet."

"I still want to search this one," Jason insisted. He was taking no chances: security sticking their heads into a room and calling Dick's name wasn't likely to find him if Weldon had stashed him somewhere.

The guard looked at Weldon for his opinion, but the man just shrugged. "Let him search if he wants. You may as well tell the security team on this floor to head up to the next one. Waste of time having them search here when Jason is going to search it again anyway."

The guard nodded and retrieved his radio. Jason could hear him radioing the other security team as he and Weldon entered the library. He could tell instantly that this library got more use than the one at Weldon's. The couches showed obvious signs of use and books were strewn on one of the coffee tables. Paperbacks with cracked spines were stacked into the shelves lining the walls alongside heavy, leather-bound tomes. There were no obvious hiding spots and it didn't take long to search the room.

"Security have moved up to the second floor," Gerald informed Weldon, as he and Jason stepped back into the hall. "No sign of the kid yet."

Weldon rolled his eyes. "Everyone's making such a fuss over nothing; the kid has to be around here somewhere. Christ, if I'd known the search was going to take this long, I'd have brought a drink with me."

Jason frowned at Weldon's nonchalant tone. He was way too relaxed. Either he really hadn't hidden Dick, or he'd stashed him somewhere no one was going to find him. Bastard _had_ grown up here, he probably knew every corner of this house. It made Jason's anxiety ratchet even higher.

"This is the study," said Weldon, opening the next door. "Happy to see Vanessa hasn't gotten her hands on it yet."

Jason followed him into a large, wood-panelled study. It reminded him of the one at Weldon's house, except for the fact it was larger and had more furniture. His heart started to beat a little faster. Was there a hidden panel like the one at Weldon's?

He performed a quick, perfunctory search of the cupboards and opened an old oak chest before turning to the desk. Weldon and the security guard were watching from by the door. Jason ignored them and scanned the floor, but could see no tell-tale scratches. Undeterred, he walked over behind the desk and pressed the oak panel.

Nothing happened.

Jason scowled, his gut sinking. He had been so sure… Then he caught sight of Weldon's face. The man's amused smirk had disappeared and he was watching him with a tight, controlled expression. Jason recognized it instantly as someone trying to hide something.

 _Son of a bitch! Dick must be in here!_

Ignoring Weldon, he immediately went to work pressing the other oak panels.

"What are you doing?" demanded Weldon, the edge in his tone telling Jason he was on the right track.

"Searching," Jason ground out. He'd worry about explaining his behaviour later, what mattered now was finding Dick.

When he reached the last panel without uncovering anything, Weldon sneered, "Interesting experiment. But maybe we should get on with the actual search?"

This time, Jason couldn't hide his hatred as he glared at Weldon. Where the fuck was Dick? Jason _knew_ he was in here somewhere!

Weldon's expression twitched as he glared back, no trace of his easy smugness. It was obvious that he'd realized Jason was on to him. But they were at a stalemate – Weldon couldn't react in front of the guard, and Jason couldn't accuse him without evidence. At least not as a civilian, but just wait until Weldon discovered all the evidence the police had on him.

Turning away from Weldon, Jason scanned the room. He had evidence on this bastard, what he needed was to find Dick. His eyes fell on the bookshelves behind the desk: they started at the same level as the desk and were built into the wall.

Jason stared. He had only checked the lower rows of panels surrounding the room, feeling that the higher ones weren't likely to have a compartment big enough to hide a person. But those upper panels on either side of the bookshelves looked to be just a couple of inches shy of a metre, both in height and length. It would be a squeeze but Dick was probably small enough to fit…

He moved over to the shelves and reached up, pressing on the panel to the left of the bookshelves. It clicked and swung open, revealing an empty compartment behind it. Jason immediately crossed to the other panel and pressed on that one. It too swung open.

"Dick!" he cried, finding the boy squashed into the small compartment beyond. He was unconscious and wrapped in a blanket. Relief and anxiety rushing through him, Jason reached up and carefully tugged Dick out before lifting him down.

He was just laying the boy on the floor to examine him when something crashed into his skull. The world teetering madly, Jason jerked to his feet and swung wildly. His fist connected with something and Jason squinted through his swimming vision, surprised to see that it was the security guard who had attacked him.

 _What the–_

Another blow hit him from behind and lights flashed before his eyes. Everything spun violently as Jason whirled and ducked, blindly flinging himself into Weldon's stomach and sending the man sprawling across the desk, knocking pens and paper to the floor. "You son of a bitch!" he roared, driving a fist into Weldon's face. "You fucking dare put your filthy hands on him?!"

Jason drove another brutal punch into Weldon's face, feeling a wild satisfaction as the bastard's nose crunched beneath his fist. He was so enraged that he almost didn't hear the security guard approach from behind and barely missed being struck by a heavy lamp the man was wielding. Spinning quickly, he delivered a vicious kick to the guard's side that caused him to gasp and drop the lamp. Clutching his side with one hand, the big man swung at Jason with the other. Jason quickly sidestepped the punch, stumbling a little as his vision tilted, throwing him off balance.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an arm coming towards him and twisted away just as a fist sailed past him. But the blows to his head had slowed him, and the fist struck a glancing blow to his shoulder. Growling, Jason grabbed Weldon's arm, twisting and throwing him over his shoulder. As Weldon landed on the floor, the security guard grabbed Jason from behind and put him in a chokehold. Bastards were tag-teaming him.

Jason immediately threw his weight forward, half-strangling himself as he tossed the man over his shoulder. But the guy was built like a tank and clearly well-trained; he used his forward momentum to twist sideways, dragging Jason with him.

The two of them crashed to the floor where they continued to grapple, clawing and punching viciously. Jason managed to get several good hits at his opponent, but he also received a few that did nothing to improve his sea-sawing vision. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Finally, he managed to get clear and jerked upright, delivering a savage dropkick to the guard's chest that dropped him like a stone. The big man hit the ground just as something hard smashed into Jason's skull, sending stars exploding across his vision.

His world turned red and Jason staggered to face Weldon. He barely caught a glimpse of the man's smirk before he brought a lamp crashing down on Jason's head, sending him to the floor.

Hot, white agony blared inside his skull as Jason tried to push himself upright. The world was weaving in and out of focus, but he managed to glimpse Dick lying unconscious almost a foot away, oblivious to the battle raging around him.

Panic hit Jason hard. If he went down now, Dick would be at the mercy of that fucking pervert!

Using every ounce of strength he had left, Jason pushed himself to his knees. His whole body trembled from the exertion and nausea roared through him. He was just trying to figure out how to get to his feet when Weldon's face appeared in front of him.

"You're not ruining my plans," he hissed, and slammed a fist into Jason's face.

Immediately, Jason toppled forward, blackness, panic and pain swallowing him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here we go, the final chapter. Thank you to all of you awesome people who commented. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to respond to everyone, as my brother came home from Oz on Monday so it's been a somewhat crazy week, but I very much appreciate your wonderful feedback. :)

Also, thank you to my excellent beta, HaleyKim, for her stellar beta work. She is the reason I got past the writing block I was experiencing, so thank you, Kim. You are awesome. :)

Finally, just a quick note as I received a few PMs about this. I am aware that Queen of Crystallopia has written a few stories inspired by my Volatile verse (in fact, I've read and really enjoyed them). However, I need to point out that those stories are _inspired_ by the Volatile verse, they don't actually take place in it (I'm not sure if Queen of Crystallopia has planned to give her own backstory as to how Jason ended up in the YJ universe so I can't comment beyond that). I have a few stories plotted for the Volatile verse, so only what I write takes place in it.

Hope everyone has a nice weekend! :)

oOo

There was beeping somewhere. Sharp. Annoying. Painful. Jason wanted to shoot whatever was making the noise, except he couldn't move.

That was aggravating. Why couldn't he move? And why was it so fucking _dark_?

Ignoring the pain sawing through his skull, Jason concentrated on moving.

His fingers twitched.

Okay. Progress. Jason forced himself to concentrate harder. This time he managed to lift his hand. It trembled from the strain before plopping onto something soft.

"Jason?" said a voice suddenly.

He tried to focus. That voice was familiar.

"Jason?"

The voice was louder this time, making him wince.

The beeping sound was suddenly accompanied by a ringing that tore a sharp strip of pain through his skull. Holy shit, since when did sound hurt this _much_?!

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut against the klaxon of noise, but then realized they were already closed. Somebody needed to turn that shit off!

The klaxon suddenly stopped, and was replaced by murmurs. Jason thought he heard his name mentioned a few times.

Then something touched his forehead and a flash of light stabbed his eye. Jason twitched and heard someone groan, before a flash of light pierced his other eye. What the hell? Okay, not knowing what was going on was really starting to piss him off.

It took an unprecedented amount of effort to open his eyes. When he finally managed to drag them open, he found a pair of pretty green eyes surrounded by a pretty halo of red staring down at him. The vision was fuzzy and ethereal.

Holy fuck! Was he dead?!

"Mr. Todd?" said the eyes in a soft voice that confused him. That didn't sound like the voice from before…

He made a noise that might have been a grunt, but he couldn't be certain.

"Mr. Todd," the eyes continued, "if you can hear me, can you blink?"

What kind of stupid-ass question was that?! Jason scowled and blinked, before opening his mouth to speak.

He whined instead.

Uh, what the fuck was that?

"Just relax," said the pretty green eyes softly. "You're in the hospital."

So, not dead then.

"H…hos…hos-p-tal?" he croaked. And whoa! _That_ didn't sound like him!

"Do you know what a hospital is?" the pretty green eyes asked.

Jason stared at her disbelievingly. Was she for real? Of course he knew what a hospital was! He nodded, then immediately regretted it as agony twisted up in violent knots inside his brain. Screw this shit! If he was in a hospital, where were the goddamned drugs?!

The eyes smiled. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Ja…Jason…" he gasped out. It was harder to say than he'd expected.

The smile widened. "Good. You're doing really well, Mr. Todd."

Jason scowled. Why the fuck was she talking to him like a child?!

She held up three fingers in front of him. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hang on, he'd been here before. Head injury. That's why she was asking such dumb-ass questions. "Th-three," he replied, then licked his lips. Damn, his mouth was dry. "Drink?"

The red halo around the eyes bobbed. "You can have some water. But small sips only, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

Something was pressed against his lips. A straw. Excellent. Jason drank and the cool swish of water rushed into his mouth. It tasted amazing. He wanted to protest when the straw was removed.

"That's enough for now," the eyes told him, as the fuzz around her started to clear. A face came into view.

Jason squinted. Hey! _She_ was a person! He was annoyed at himself for not realizing it sooner.

"Does your head hurt, Mr. Todd?" she asked.

"Like a…mother."

She smiled. "I'll give you something for it now."

She disappeared from his field of vision, only to be replaced by a big guy with dark hair. The man was staring down at him with a tight, concerned expression. "Jason?"

 _There_ was the familiar voice! A name clicked in Jason's memory banks. "Bruce?"

Relief almost crumpled the big man's face. "Yes. Are you okay?"

Jason thought about that. Something was banging from inside his skull, making pain vibrate outwards in waves. He felt kind of sick too, come to think of it. Yeah, nope. He definitely didn't feel good. "Been better."

"Well then, this should help." Ms. Pretty Green Eyes was back and seemed to be doing something to Jason's arm.

"What–" he began as something cold flowed up his arm. Then the hammer in his brain slowed to a dull thud and everything around him began to melt.

Jason didn't have time to wonder what was happening before he was pitched out of awareness.

oOo

He woke to beeping again.

As Jason blinked back to consciousness, he felt the familiar compulsion to shoot what was making that noise. Irritating fucker.

"Urgh," he mumbled, trying and failing to sit up.

"Jason?"

Suddenly Bruce was standing over him. Jason blinked again. When did that happen?

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked.

"Shit," Jason growled, making another effort to sit up. "Can you turn that off?"

"Turn what off?"

Jason waved in the general direction of the noise. "That fucking beeping."

Bruce's lips twitched a little and he shook his head. "Sorry, Jason. The doctors still need to monitor you."

Doctors? Oh, right. He was in the hospital. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Bruce's expression tightened.

"Remember what?"

"Weldon."

"Weldon? What–" Images trickled back to Jason: a study, fighting, Weldon's smirk, a lamp, Dick on the floor…

" _Dick!_ " he shouted, jerking to a half-sitting position and sending agony roaring through his skull. The beeping became more insistent.

"Dick is fine," said Bruce, placing a hand on Jason's chest and gently pushing him back against the pillows.

"Where is he?" Jason demanded, trying to sit up again. "Is he okay? Why–"

"Jason, stop!" said Bruce firmly, grabbing his shoulders and holding him in place against the pillows. "I told you, Dick is fine. He's at home with Alfred. But you need to take it easy; you suffered a cracked skull and you've been out of it for days."

Jason stared up at him, bewildered. "I don't understand. How…?"

"I will tell you everything if you promise to lie down and _relax_."

Jason stopped struggling and Bruce released his hold. "He's really okay?" Jason whispered. "Weldon didn't…didn't…"

Cold anger flashed in Bruce's eyes. "He never touched him. Dick's fine, Jason. I promise."

"Oh, thank fuck," Jason breathed, relief making him lightheaded. He closed his eyes and sank into the pillows. His hands were shaking.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked.

"Fine," said Jason, opening his eyes. "Bruce, what happened? The last thing I remember is going down…"

"Commissioner Gordon got there just in time to catch Weldon trying to cover everything up, arrested him on the spot."

"Gordon! How the hell did he get there?"

Bruce eyed him in concern. "It's a long story. Are you sure you're up to it?"

Jason gave him a withering look before pressing the button to elevate the head of his bed.

Bruce sighed in resignation before settling into a chair beside the bed. "Detective Bullock was there when the call came in from Kevin Weldon to say Dick had gone missing on the Weldon estate. Bullock knew Gordon had gone to Roger Weldon's house, so he called the commissioner. Gordon was examining the folder with Dick's pictures when he got the call."

His eyes flashed with the same rage Jason was feeling. "Gordon guessed instantly that Weldon was behind it and headed for the Weldon estate with two of his officers. When they arrived, Kevin Weldon told them you were searching the house with his brother. They couldn't get Gerald Hopkins – the security guard with you – on the radio, but the other security team were able to tell them that you'd been searching the first floor. Gordon and his men were on the guest corridor when they heard the struggle; they got to the study just as Weldon was about to kill you. Hopkins was trying to stuff Dick back into the wall."

"It never crossed my mind that the bastards were working together," said Jason, angry with himself for missing what seemed obvious in hindsight. "I thought Weldon was working alone."

"Weldon has never worked alone. Turns out he's a member of a highly organized sex ring that specialize in children. Hopkins is a mercenary who does their dirty work: abducting children and disposing of their bodies once the gang have finished with them."

"How the fuck have a gang like that slipped under the radar?!" demanded Jason, horrified.

"They work internationally, abducting children from war-torn regions, or areas devastated by disasters. Makes it impossible to track whether a child is actually missing, displaced or dead due to whatever has afflicted the region."

"Then what the hell was Weldon doing trying to abduct Dick?! He couldn't have picked a more high-profile kid!"

Cold fury hardened Bruce's features. "Apparently, Weldon has had his eye on Dick ever since I adopted him, he just thought abducting him was too risky. But then he heard about Dick's kidnapping last September."

"September? Dick wasn't–" Jason stopped dead. Dick hadn't been kidnapped in September, but _Robin_ had been abducted and tortured by Joker. The only way to explain his injuries had been a kidnapping gone wrong.

"Fuck," he whispered, staring at Bruce.

Bruce nodded grimly. "It seems the fact that Dick was a target for kidnapping put ideas into Weldon's head; he realized he could make an abduction appear like a kidnapping for ransom. No one would ever suspect someone as wealthy as him to be behind it. And now was the time to act, in another year Dick would have been…too old for his tastes." Bruce's horror and revulsion were clearly visible on his face.

Jason swallowed down nausea that had nothing to do with his head injury. "And Hopkins?"

"Weldon knew his nephew and Dick were friends, and that Dick would be at the party, so he used his contacts to get Hopkins a job with SecuriCorp, the security company his brother uses. He gave Hopkins a map detailing exactly where the hidden compartments were, all Hopkins had to do was wait for an opportunity – he grabbed Dick on his way back from the bathroom, drugged him and put him in an unused dumbwaiter."

"Those small elevator things in the walls?" Jason clarified.

Bruce nodded. "The security teams were rotated between the floors, so when Hopkins was sent to the first floor, he moved Dick from the dumbwaiter to the compartment in the study. It was several feet off the ground and Weldon was banking on that being enough to confuse any sniffer dogs brought in once Dick's disappearance was discovered. He was certain no one would find Dick since not even his brother knew the compartments existed, although it was likely his wife would have found them once she started redecorating the study."

"Fucker definitely wasn't happy about her working on the house," Jason commented, remembering. "Bet he didn't want his dirty hidey-holes exposed! Can't believe he wasn't worried about someone suspecting him after Dick disappeared."

"Weldon was clever. He stayed in full view of the party at all times, telling inappropriate jokes so everyone would remember him, thereby ensuring he wouldn't be tied to Dick's disappearance. His plan was to sneak Dick out of there once the police and everyone had left."

"Bastard!" Jason snarled, his rage at Weldon overwhelming. "Did he really think he could get away with it?!"

Bruce's mouth thinned. "The fact that he _has_ been getting away with this for years made him overconfident. Plus, he hadn't planned on you showing up."

"Bet that really threw a wrench in his plans," commented Jason, seething.

"It definitely concerned him. But it wasn't until you started checking the panels in the study that Weldon realized you were on to him."

"So why did he wait until I found Dick to react? Why didn't he make a move sooner?"

Bruce shook his head. "My guess is Weldon didn't want to act unless he absolutely had to."

"Guess? You don't know?"

"Weldon's not talking."

"But then how–?"

"Hopkins talked. He struck a deal with the police. In return for a reduced sentence and protective custody in prison, he told them everything he knew about Weldon, the gang and their victims."

"And the police agreed to that?!"

"Hopkins wasn't actually involved in the abuse or murder of the children–"

"He abducted them! Hid their bodies!" cried Jason, enraged. "He's every bit as guilty as those other fucks!"

"Maybe so, but the DA felt that bringing down an international sex ring which trafficked children outweighed any gains that nailing one man guilty of kidnapping and accessory to murder would bring."

"It's still wrong," said Jason bitterly.

"I know."

Jason clenched his jaw in anger, ignoring how it made his head throb. "Why didn't Hopkins get involved when I started searching the study?"

"Weldon was signalling him not to act while you were checking the study panels. Hopkins thinks it was because they could continue to play dumb if you didn't find Dick. But once you found him, the game was up."

"And just how were they planning on explaining my murder?"

"They were going to pretend you attacked them out of the blue and that Weldon stabbed you in self-defence."

"What?! That was a stupid-ass plan!"

"Not necessarily," said Bruce, and his expression was serious. "Apparently, when you arrived at the Weldon estate, you were acting very paranoid and on edge. Add to the fact that you were unnecessarily antagonistic towards Roger Weldon and–"

" _Unnecessarily?_ " Jason interjected furiously. "He's a fucking pervert! There was nothing unnecessary about it!"

"Only if you knew what Weldon is, and nobody at the party had any clue." Bruce looked Jason square in the eyes. "Except you."

Jason looked away.

"You know, Alfred was really concerned when you took off without any explanation," Bruce continued quietly. "And he was worried about you last week. We all were."

"I was fine. Just busy," replied Jason shortly.

"Clearly. How did you know about Weldon? Even I didn't suspect anything."

Jason kept his gaze averted. "Bastard in my world wasn't so subtle about hiding his twisted shit. When I discovered there was a Weldon here, I just wanted to make sure he didn't have the same sick tastes. Turned out he did."

"Then why not tell me? Why all the secrecy?"

Jason shrugged, still not looking at him. "You knew the guy, so I didn't want to say anything in case there was nothing to tell."

"You were going to tell me once you discovered what a monster he was?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Then why did Red Hood ask Gordon to keep his name out of it?"

Jason whipped his head around, causing pain to ricochet inside his skull. "How do you know that?"

"Batman's been working this case with Gordon."

"Since when?!"

"Since Hopkins revealed the presence of an international trafficking ring. You've been drifting in and out for four days, Jason. A lot has happened."

Jason stared at Bruce. Four days? Fuck!

"Are you going to tell me why Red Hood didn't want anyone to know about his involvement?"

"Didn't want any questions raised about the validity of the investigation. If it got out that a vigilante was involved it might get thrown out of court."

"Name one case that was thrown out of court because of vigilante involvement."

"I was just being cautious, alright?" snapped Jason. "Weldon's a rich bastard with a team of lawyers…I didn't want to take any chances."

"And that's all there is to it?"

"Yes!"

"Then why are your hands shaking?"

"What? Shut up! They're not!" Jason clenched his hands into fists, uncomfortably aware that his heart monitor was racing.

"Jason–"

"Just drop it, Bruce!"

"I can't." He fixed Jason with a serious look. "You almost got yourself killed over this case. I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine." Jason tried to calm down. The more he reacted, the more suspicious Bruce would get.

"You're not. Fine," Bruce enunciated slowly. "When are you going to realize that it's okay to admit you need help?"

"Look who's talking," Jason muttered.

Bruce gave him a small smile that disappeared quickly. "Jason, I know there's more to this than you're letting on. You've been rattled and on edge ever since you met Weldon…and don't think for one second I believe that's down to Joker's escape," he added as Jason opened his mouth to argue. "You think I can't spot an evasion tactic when I see one?"

Jason closed his mouth, annoyed. Goddamn World's Greatest Detective.

"I didn't push you because it was obvious you didn't want to talk about it," Bruce continued. "But whatever is eating at you nearly got you killed, and I can't ignore it anymore."

"Please, Bruce, just let it go," said Jason. He was exhausted and his head was throbbing. He didn't have the energy to fight this.

"I already told you, I can't." When Jason didn't respond, Bruce continued, "What happened between you and Weldon?"

Jason shook his head slowly. "I can't…"

"Why not?" Bruce's tone was soft.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Jason shook his head again. "It fucked me up. That kind of shit…it gets into everything. I don't want it to poison my life here…"

"It's a little late for that. Just look at the wall you've built between yourself and the people who care about you."

A lump came to Jason's throat. "I don't want this," he whispered. "I don't want it to be real here."

"Pretending it didn't happen won't make it any less real." There was sadness in Bruce's dark eyes. "You need to talk about this or it's going to eat you alive."

Jason gave a shaky, bitter laugh. "Says the man who bottles everything up."

"Says the man who understands the consequences," Bruce countered quietly.

Jason looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. His head ached and the lump in his throat was now painful. He was angry at how scared he was of talking about this. He wasn't a kid anymore dammit!

"Jason, whatever happened between you and Weldon, you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

This time his laughter bordered on hysterical. "You can't say that when you don't know what happened! You don't know what I did, Bruce."

"So tell me about it." Bruce's expression was calm.

Jason tried to swallow the lump in his throat. "You're going to hate me…"

Bruce leaned forward in his chair. "I promise you, Jason, I won't hate you. You are family and no matter what you tell me, that won't change."

Jason closed his eyes. It was so easy for Bruce to say that when he didn't know everything. Oh, he knew that Jason was a killer, that his hands were stained red. He just didn't know how red. But Bruce Wayne was also a stubborn bastard once he got an idea into his head, he wouldn't drop this until Jason talked.

And part of Jason wanted to talk, to tell someone so he wouldn't have to carry this all by himself. It was the part of him that worried about how Bruce would react that was holding back. Problem was, there was no going back, not when they'd reached this point.

Exhaling, he opened his eyes and looked at Bruce. "I don't want anyone else to know. Especially Dick."

"It doesn't leave this room."

Jason finally manged to choke down the lump in his throat and began his tale. "My old man split when I was six. I never knew where he went and my mom was too bitter to talk about it. She started drinking, and pretty soon moved onto drugs. I was eleven when she OD'ed." His right hand was now twisting the blankets. Jason fucking hated talking about his past. "I had no other family so they put me into foster care. I bounced around the system for two years before running away. Even the streets were better than some of those homes."

Jason ignored how bone weary he felt as he ploughed forward with the story. "But it was still hard on the streets, especially for kids. There was always someone bigger or stronger than you, and they had no problem kicking the crap out of you if it meant they could survive."

His voice sped up. Now that he'd started, he just wanted to get this over with. "Weldon used that to his advantage. He preyed on street kids. Promised them food, shelter and money in return for certain…favours. When the kids who went with him came back, they'd have warm clothes, food, money… It made the rest of us think that going with him was worth it."

"And no one put a stop to him?" asked Bruce, his expression angry.

"I don't think anyone knew for a long time what was happening. The street kids who went with him never talked about it, so no one really knew what favours he wanted until they actually went with him. And by that point, most kids were either too scared or too desperate to back out."

Jason tried to ignore how his hands were shaking. "My first winter on the streets was pretty brutal. I was beaten up twice in one week for my food, and after five days of not eating, I was desperate enough to go with him. I spent three days at his house."

Something stuck in his throat and hot, sick shame slithered into his stomach. In a shitty past filled with horror, those three days ranked among the worst.

Bruce's eyes were filled with pity. "Jason, you can't blame yourself. You were a child in a desperate situation and that bastard took advantage of it."

"That doesn't change the fact that I did what he wanted for money and a warm bed!"

"Jason–"

"No! I did that shit and there's nothing more to say, alright?" His voice was shaking and he wished Bruce would just stop with the pity. Jason couldn't fucking stand pity.

Bruce was shaking his head. "Jason–"

"No, Bruce! Okay? _No!_ Look, I get that I was a kid and didn't have much of a choice, I _know_ that it wasn't my fault, but that still doesn't _change_ the fact that it happened! No matter what shit you try to spew at me, it won't change that it _happened_!"

Bruce was silent, his expression full of sorrow.

Jason let out a shaky exhale. "I get that you want to help, Bruce, but it's done. It already happened, and I learned to deal with it a long time ago, so just let it go, okay?"

Bruce nodded.

There was a minute of silence before Bruce asked, "Was that why you didn't want to tell me about Weldon?"

"Partly," said Jason quietly. "But mostly it was because of what came after."

"What came after?"

Jason closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He'd done many awful things as Red Hood, but what he had done to Weldon was the worst. Jason felt no guilt over those actions, but he was pretty sure Bruce wouldn't see things the same way.

Opening his eyes, he glanced at the older man. "After what happened with Weldon, I got smarter. I did other things to survive so I wouldn't _ever_ have to go back there. Then Bruce took me in and I didn't have to worry about it anymore." His voice got quieter. "But I did go back. Eventually. It was years later, after I'd been resurrected, after I'd returned to Gotham. I found out Weldon was still using street kids as toys, and had strangled one of them during his sick games. The boy was only twelve."

Something hard and ugly tightened in his chest. He could no longer look at Bruce. "I took Weldon to one of my safe houses, let him experience some of what he put those kids through. It wasn't as much fun for him being on the receiving end of those games."

Jason stared at his clenched fists. "After that, I moved on to torture. Started with things that caused pain but weren't lethal, slowly graduating to more extreme methods. It took him a week to die."

There was a long silence. Jason didn't dare look at Bruce. Torture was a step beyond murder and he had taken it to extremes.

Finally, Bruce spoke. "Did your mentor know about this?"

Jason shrugged. "He probably guessed after Weldon disappeared, but I didn't leave much of a body for him to prove anything."

"Not about that. Did he know about what happened between you and Weldon when you were a child?"

There was no judgement in Bruce's voice, no anger. Jason looked at him in confusion. Bruce was watching him closely, his expression calm. This wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting…

"You're not…angry," said Jason, struggling to understand. "You're not even disappointed."

"I'm sad," Bruce told him. "Sad for the things you've been through. You didn't deserve it."

Jason had no idea how to respond.

"You never answered my question. Did your mentor know about what happened between you and Weldon?"

Jason shrugged again. "I don't know. Probably. I used to react to certain cases as Robin, but we never talked about it."

Bruce pursed his lips. "Did you ever talk to anyone about this?"

"Not until now."

Bruce shook his head. "You shouldn't have had to deal with that by yourself."

"I'm a big boy, Bruce," said Jason in irritation. "I'm used to dealing with shit by myself."

"Except you were a child when you had to deal with that."

"Whatever," muttered Jason. He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed that Bruce wasn't reacting like he had expected. The no judgement thing was great, but now Jason had no idea how _he_ was supposed to react to all this.

Bruce sighed. "Jason, I know you were alone for a long time, but that's not the case anymore. When are you going to start accepting the fact that you don't have to deal with everything by yourself?"

"This wasn't about that. I just…I didn't know how you would take this. I didn't want to risk ruining things here."

"Jason, you will _always_ have a home here, no matter what. You are part of this family."

"Even though I considered killing Weldon?" asked Jason quietly. "Because I wanted to, Bruce, I really did." He shook his head angrily, making his throbbing skull protest. "I don't want to be a killer, but it's like some fucking default I keep rebooting back to! I can't seem to shake it."

"There's a big difference between wanting to kill and actually doing it. Do you think I haven't had moments where I've wanted to kill? When I heard what Weldon had planned to do with Dick…" Bruce clenched his jaw and his eyes narrowed. "And after what Joker did to Robin, I've never wanted to snap anyone's neck more."

Jason stared at him.

"The point," Bruce continued, "is that they were reactions, impulses. Such impulses are pretty common in extreme rage, but you have to act on them to be a killer."

"The problem is, I _have_ acted on them, Bruce! Back before I came here!"

"And that's why you're so afraid of the snap instinct to kill, because you don't trust yourself. You don't seem to realize that the fact that you _don't_ want to be a killer keeps you from acting on those impulses."

Jason frowned as Bruce's reasoning trickled into his brain.

"You're too hard on yourself," said Bruce quietly. "You don't give yourself enough credit for the progress you've made since you came here, for the man you've become. Most people who travel as far down the path of violence as you did don't come back."

"Okay, Yoda, enough," said Jason, squirming. This was more than a little uncomfortable. Not to mention it was freaky how like his Bruce this man could be, and yet how totally different. It made his head spin.

Bruce smiled.

Jason settled deeper into his pillows. He felt totally drained, but also lighter. Now that everything was out in the open, he couldn't understand why he'd been so determined to keep it a secret. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about this sooner. But my head was just so messed up, I couldn't think straight."

"You don't need to apologize. I understand." A slight frown creased Bruce's forehead. "What are you going to tell Dick?"

Jason grimaced. He hadn't thought about that. "Depends. How much does he know?"

"About Weldon? All of it." Bruce's expression was grim. "It was hard to keep it from him once the police started asking him if Weldon had touched him."

Jason's gut lurched. He remembered how Dick had felt when he thought Joker had wanted to do that. "How did he take it?"

"He didn't really react to be honest, he was too worried about you. It's been like pulling teeth to get him to leave the hospital ever since you were admitted." Bruce glanced at the clock on the wall. "Actually, he should be here soon. He refused to leave last night after you woke up coherent yesterday – he was mad he missed it. Alfred forced him to go home and get some rest this morning, but I doubt he'll be able to keep him at the manor for longer than a few hours."

"So I need to figure out what to tell him pretty quick," Jason concluded. More lies. Awesome.

Bruce nodded.

"What about the police?" asked Jason, trying to get everything straight in his head. "What do I tell them about why I showed up to collect Dick?"

"Already covered. We told them that Alfred received an anonymous call telling him Dick was in danger at the Weldon estate, that he panicked and sent you there. I programmed the lines to look like a call had been received from a burner cell. And since the police think the evidence that Gordon received was sent anonymously–"

"They're not questioning it," Jason finished. "Bet Gordon suspects Red Hood though."

"Probably."

Just then the door opened, and Dick entered, followed by Alfred. The boy's eyes widened when he saw Jason sitting up.

"Jason!" he cried and shot towards the bed. He threw himself across Jason and hugged him tightly.

"Oof," gasped Jason, wrapping one arm around Dick. "Good to see you too, kid."

"Are you alright? Are you okay?" Dick asked, his words muffled against Jason's chest.

"Totally fine," said Jason, smiling as he patted Dick's hair with his free hand. "Not even a headache."

"Liar," Dick mumbled, his arms tightening around Jason's torso.

Jason laughed. "Alright, maybe a small one. But I'm okay, Dick, really. I've got a hard head."

Dick jerked up and glared at him. "You do not have a hard head! You got _hurt,_ Jason!"

"That happens in my line of work," Jason reminded him gently. "You're going to have to get used to it, kiddo."

Dick's face told him exactly what he thought of that idea.

"Dick," Jason looked him straight in the eye, "I'm _okay_."

"You don't look okay," Dick whispered, eyes glued to his face. "And you were acting really weird before all this, plus you knew about…what Weldon was doing…"

Shit. He hadn't expected Dick to come at him right out of the gate. "I knew Weldon in my world. He wasn't a nice guy. I just wanted to make sure that this Weldon wasn't the same." Jason scowled. "Turned out he was."

"But why didn't you tell us?" asked Dick, still clutching at Jason.

"I didn't want to unless I found something. Accusations like that have a tendency to stick, whether they're true or not." It was alarming how easy it was to lie to him.

"Alright, Dick," said Bruce's voice, "give Jason some space."

Dick ignored him and studied Jason. "Are you really okay?"

Jason ruffled his hair. "I'm fine, kid, I promise."

Dick leaned in and hugged him again, and Jason could feel him exhale against his chest. He was startled to realize just how _scared_ Dick had been by his getting hurt. Wrapping both arms around the boy he hugged back tightly.

"Okay, kiddo," said Bruce, putting a hand on Dick's shoulder, "let him breathe."

This time Dick complied, releasing Jason and straightening up. Jason smiled reassuringly at him and squeezed his arm.

Alfred appeared on the other side of the bed. "I'm very happy to see you awake, Master Jason. You had us all quite worried."

"Yeah, sorry about that," said Jason. "But I'm okay now."

"Do you know when the hospital plans on releasing you?"

"Uhhh…good question, actually." He looked at Bruce for an answer.

"Depends," said the billionaire. "They told me that if you were more coherent today, there was a good chance you could be released in a few days."

"Excellent," said Alfred. "That gives me time to prepare your room and collect some of your belongings from your apartment."

"Now hang on," Jason began, "why do I need to go to the manor?"

"You need to rest and recuperate, Master Jason. This way, we can ensure you do that instead of flinging yourself across rooftops before you're ready."

Oh, hell no! Jason knew what that meant – Alfred would fuss over him. He hated being fussed over. "I don't need–"

Alfred pinned him with a look. "There will be no arguments, young man. Unless you want your recuperation to involve prolonged and enforced bed rest?"

Swallowing, Jason shook his head and slumped against the pillows. Not even Bruce argued with Alfred when he gave _that_ look.

"Wonderful," said Alfred crisply. "Now, I've brought some food for you and Master Bruce. I daresay neither of you have eaten since I left."

The butler picked up a bag and moved over to the table by the window, where he began unpacking the bag's contents. Bruce followed him under the pretext of helping, but Jason saw him lean down to whisper in the old man's ear.

Dick was still standing close beside Jason, now grinning impishly. "Dude, what were you thinking arguing with Alfred when he's in Mother hen mode!"

"Mother hen mode?" Jason groaned. He was too old for this shit.

"Yup!" said Dick gleefully. "Should be fun watching him making you eat your vegetables and go to bed at a reasonable hour."

"Brat!" Jason swatted at him. "You know you don't have to look so happy about this."

The mischievous expression became serious. "But I am happy; I'm happy that you're okay. We were really worried about you, Jay."

Jason's irritation melted. "You don't need to worry about me, kid, I'm going nowhere."

Dick beamed and Jason tugged his arm, bringing the boy in for another hug. As his arm wrapped around Dick again, Jason finally relaxed, the tension and worry of the last week falling away completely.

Dick was okay, untouched by the blight that had infested Jason's childhood…Bruce knew his worst and deepest secret, and still wanted him to stay…And now that the secret was out there, it no longer felt like it might poison Jason and everything he cared about. For the first time in a very long time, he was truly free.


End file.
